


Too Darned Hot

by Lady_Saddlebred



Series: Lessons They Never Taught Me [24]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 19:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7520638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Saddlebred/pseuds/Lady_Saddlebred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With apologies to Cole Porter...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Darned Hot

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure why AO3 is showing this as Part 27. Chronologically, it falls within the same basic time period as "Pomp and Circumstances," but can read independently of that WIP story.

Title: Too Darned Hot  
Author: Lady_Saddlebred (cdelapin@yahoo.com)  
Archive: Yes, please  
Category: Q/O, Alternate Reality, PWP

Rating: R/NC-17  
Series: Lessons They Never Taught Me in School

 

DISCLAIMER: George Lucas owned everything, until he sold it to Disney. We own nothing, just playing in his playground.

 

Special thanks to Katbear and Merry Amelie, notre betas par excellence! Just a little unbeta’ed PWP in honor of the beastly weather. 

SUMMARY: With apologies to Mr. Cole Porter…

Previous fics in series: all on AO3 website:  
Early Admission  
Lessons They Never Taught Me in School  
Lessons That Were Never on the Syllabus  
That Which Does Not Go to School  
Rainy Day Recess   
Of Popcorn and Pine Trees  
Fit to Print  
Daffodils  
Spring Cotillion  
Is That a Lightsaber I See Before Me  
A Pen for Your Thoughts  
When I Was Your Age  
Partners  
Mum’s the Word  
Best Laid Plans  
An Apple for Teacher  
What’s for Supper  
Pacifier  
Snow Angels  
One Man’s Junk  
May I Have This Dance  
Four Green Fields  
Pomp and Circumstances (WIP)

~*~*~*~

 

It's too darn hot  
It's too darn hot

I'd like to sup with my baby tonight  
and play the pup with my baby tonight  
but I ain't up to my baby tonight  
cause it's too darn hot

I'd like to stop for my baby tonight  
and blow my top with my baby tonight  
but I'd be a flop with my baby tonight  
cause it's too darn hot

I'd like to fool with my baby tonight  
break ev'ry rule with my baby tonight  
but, pillow, you'll be my baby tonight  
cause it's too darn hot

According to the Kinsey report  
ev'ry average man you know  
much prefers to play his favorite sport  
when the temperature is low  
but when the thermometer goes way up  
and the weather is sizzling hot  
Mister Adam for his madam is not  
cause it's too too hot

I'd like to call on my baby tonight  
and give my all to my baby tonight  
I'd like to call on my baby tonight  
and give my all to my baby tonight  
but I can't play ball with my baby tonight  
cause it's too darn hot

I'd like to meet with my baby tonight  
get off my feet with my baby tonight  
but no repeat with my baby tonight  
cause it's too darn hot

I'd like to coo with my baby tonight  
and pitch some woo with my baby tonight  
but, sister, you fight my baby tonight  
cause it's too darn hot

 

~*~*~*~

Ben stood in the doorway of the bathroom, drinking in the familiar sight of Quinn shaving in front of the mirror. Steam filled the room, giving it an almost dream-like quality. Clad only in a brief towel, Quinn’s lean form was a feast for the senses. Ben suspected he did it deliberately, just to tease him. 

 

“Your hair is really dark when it’s wet, have you noticed?” he remarked. “It must have been spectacular when you were younger. Not,” Ben added hastily, “that it isn’t great now, of course.”

 

Quinn’s blue eyes twinkled at him over the straight-edged razor. “My hair and I have an understanding: as long as it stays on my head, it can be any color it wants and I won’t complain.” He regarded his reflection. “Hmm, it *is* dark, isn’t it? Funny, it started going gray when I was even younger than you. I’d almost forgotten. There’s probably a picture around somewhere.” He rinsed off the remnants of the shaving cream and turned. “And yours, my Benjamin,” he said softly, reaching out to stroke Ben’s hair, “is the color of a Tuscany sunset in summer. I wonder if it’ll go silver or gold when you’re my age. I wonder if I’ll get to see it,” he mused, almost to himself.

 

Ben leaned into the caress. “Unless you’re planning on offing yourself down the road, I think it’s a pretty safe bet. ‘Cuz I ain’t goin’ anywhere, dude.”

 

Quinn smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “I’ll hold you to that.”

 

Ben studied his own reflection in the mirror. “Maybe I should grow a beard.” He stroked his chin, trying to imagine himself with facial hair. On Quinn it looked natural, right. But then he’d never known him without it. 

 

Quinn studied him for a long moment. “You have a strong jaw line. And a very mobile mouth. With your facial structure, you’d look gorgeous either way. But you have to consider the upkeep. Growing it in can be a real bitch, and then you have to keep it trimmed. Is it worth it to you?”

 

Ben choked back laughter. Somehow, hearing Quinn call anything a “bitch” jarred. He was no stranger to profanity, certainly, but seldom in casual conversation. Maybe he was a bad influence on the older man. Not…

 

He reached up to stroke the soft lips, framed in the red-brown mustache and beard. Quinn kissed his fingers, then drew them gently into his mouth. Ben blushed at the intimate gesture. Quinn was very… oral, and openly affectionate with those for whom he cared. Ben had frequently seen him ruffle young Ani Walker’s hair in passing, or nonchalantly kiss Adele Gauliere’s hand or cheek. Of course, anyone witnessing *that* assumed they were a hot couple, especially when Adele would fan herself and pretend to swoon, as if just having him there made her life complete. Ben had to fight back a grin when he heard all the envious sighs. Quinn adored his “jolie,” but when all was said and done, he was Ben’s, body and soul.

 

After a long moment of contented silence, Ben reluctantly pulled himself back to the subject at hand. Then, weirdly, stream of consciousness took over. “Upkeep, right. But it can’t be as bad as manscaping, right?”

 

“… Manscaping?” Quinn’s eyebrows rose questioningly. “What, pray tell, is ‘manscaping?’

 

“You know, shaving or waxing...” Ben glanced downward, chuckling as Quinn winced, clearly having caught his drift. He stroked Quinn’s chest above the bath towel. While blessed with a thick head of wavy hair, Quinn’s body was otherwise relatively hair-free, except for a light dusting on his chest and a thin dark line just below his navel, descending to his genital area. The hair on his arms and legs was fine, even silky to the touch. Ben loved to tangle his fingers in Quinn’s chest hair, especially during and after lovemaking. 

 

“*Waxing*? Are you serious?” Quinn actually shuddered.

 

Ben laughed at the pained look on the older man’s face. “I’m not suggesting anything, love. I like your body just the way it is.” He emphasized the point with lingering kisses to each nipple and to the flat abdomen, followed by a long, slow caress that threatened to dislodge the towel. Quinn sucked in his breath and reflexively grabbed the edge of the vanity. Ben slowly knelt at Quinn’s feet, glancing teasingly up into his lover’s face. Quinn’s breath quickened in anticipation, and his eyes fluttered closed as Ben carefully unwound the pale blue bath sheet. 

 

“Nice gift wrap,” he murmured, bunching up the damp towel and using it to cushion his knees on the cold tile floor. Quinn made a vaguely affirmative reply, then moaned low in his throat as Ben leisurely drew his cock into his mouth, tongue running over, under and around its length, wetting it thoroughly, then letting it slide back out again. One big hand drifted down to rest on Ben’s head, and Ben hummed as he took the rapidly hardening organ into his mouth again, enjoying the deep quivers that shook Quinn’s entire frame. The power, the control this man willingly ceded to him in such moments was nearly as sexy as the act itself, and he never tired of finding new ways to pleasure the man who gave so unstintingly of himself to others. He’d even secretly checked out a number of websites to refine his technique and broaden their horizons. 

 

And Quinn always made it worth his while.

 

~*~*~*~

They showered together the second time, hurrying when the hot water began to fade. Quinn moved into the bedroom and began to dress, while Ben lounged against the bathroom doorway.

 

“I really have to wonder why any male would want to remove the hair from his body,” Quinn mused, as he pulled on a pair of khakis and a lightweight shirt. “What would be the point?”

 

“It’s good hygiene,” Ben replied. “Stuff can get… caught, or lead to infections.” He wasn’t really sure he bought into it himself, but Quinn loved a good debate, just for the pleasure of it. Ben, too, enjoyed the verbal fencing, though he seldom came out on the winning end.

 

Quinn snorted in disbelief. “A lad spends his childhood dreaming of the day he becomes a man, and then when the visible evidence of manhood presents itself, he wants to go back to being a child? The human body produces those changes as a way of not only maturing, but of protecting vulnerable areas. It’s an ages-old safety mechanism.” He shook his head. “And time-consuming as upkeep of facial hair can be, imagine having to maintain… elsewhere.” He glanced pointedly at Ben’s naked groin. “Haven’t you ever heard women complain about the torture of a ‘bikini waxing?’”

 

Ben grinned. “Well, you might have a point there, Professor.” He wrapped one hand loosely about his cock and held it out. “Not to mention you’d probably have to have help. Be a bit difficult to do on your own.”

 

Quinn tore his eyes away from the obvious enticement. “We’ve lunch reservations, brat. Get moving.”

 

“Killjoy,” Ben pouted. Then his stomach reminded him that it was past time to eat, and he, too, began to dress.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Quinn seemed lost in thought as they drove to the restaurant. After several minutes, he spoke. “I hope you didn’t misunderstand me earlier,” he began tentatively.

 

“About what?” Ben asked.

 

“About the… ‘manscaping,’” Quinn replied. “It’s obviously a matter of personal preference, and if you’re leaning toward-”

 

“Hold on,” Ben said, laughing. “I wasn’t suggesting actually *doing* it, silly. I just wanted to see your reaction.”

 

Quinn was openly relieved. “Glad to hear it. It’s hard enough sometimes remembering that you’re so much younger than I am, without making yourself look even more so. I’d feel like a pedophile.”

 

Ben stared. He’d not considered that aspect before. He was seventeen years younger than Quinn, but it hadn’t really been an issue before. Quinn was fit as a fiddle, for all his complaints about growing older. Biologically speaking, he was old enough to be Ben’s father, but theirs was anything but a father-son relationship. 

 

“I prefer men to act and look like men,” Quinn went on, seeming to struggle to put his thoughts into words. “Women, too. Nothing is more disturbing to me than watching a lady of mature years rushing to recapture her lost girlhood. Can you imagine Adele running around in public with her midriff hanging out? She’d look ridiculous.”

 

“Adele would look good in a *barrel*,” Ben retorted, with a grin. “And she’d probably slap you silly for referring to her as a ‘woman of mature years.’ She’s younger than you, remember.”

 

Quinn smiled, conceding the point. “She probably would, at that.” He signaled for a turn. “But the girls running around campus in warm weather wearing tight shorts and little else hold no appeal for me at all.” He held up a hand before Ben could speak. “Or boys, for that matter. They’re *children,* and as such, they’re strictly off limits. In loco parentis, as it were.”

 

“Nobody’s suggesting otherwise, love,” Ben soothed. “I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously. Though, except for Ani, I think most of those ‘children’ are legal adults by the time they get to the Academy.”

 

Quinn shook his head. “Nor did I, but now I can’t seem to get it out of my head.” He pulled into the restaurant parking lot and turned off the engine. “Just promise me that you’ll think long and hard before you do anything along those lines, please?” 

 

“Promise,” Ben agreed. As if, he added silently to himself. Talk about upkeep…

 

~*~*~*~

Quinn slowly climbed the stairs, feeling a light sweat break out even with the minimal activity. Damn, it was hot. Thank goodness for cars with air conditioning. Just the short walk from the Ferguson Building to his Jag had left him gasping for something long and cold, not to mention the beginnings of a headache from the humidity. Not for the first time, he remembered with longing the temperate climate of his homeland, with its intermittent cooling showers of rain. In Ireland, sixty degrees was considered a heat wave. It was enough to make him seriously consider moving back to County Antrim.

 

Come to think of it, why wasn’t the AC running? Well, he’d fix that soon enough. Open windows didn’t cut it on stifling days like this, no matter how much he might prefer the fresh air to recycled Freon.

 

As he entered the master bedroom, focused on a tepid shower and a change of clothes, he stopped short, frankly gaping.

 

Ben lay on the neatly made bed, arms casually folded behind his head, naked as the day he was born. The ceiling fan revolved at high speed overhead and ruffled his soft russet hair. His eyes were closed, his expression one of total bliss. At the sound of Quinn’s startled gasp, the leaf-green eyes cracked open, and a sleepy smile curved his lips. 

 

“Hello, there,” he purred, never moving from where he lay. The lad didn’t even blush, though with the oppressive heat in the room it would probably be hard to tell. In fact, his entire body appeared attractively flushed. Quinn struggled not to stare, but his gaze was inescapably drawn to the beguiling thicket of auburn curls. Recalling the “manscaping” conversation of a few days earlier,” he silently thanked God Ben hadn’t seen fit to follow through with his teasing threat to shave or wax down there. 

 

“H-hello yourself,” he stammered. “Comfortable?” It was all he could think of to say at the moment.

 

“Mmm, very,” replied Ben, smiling indolently. “Ceiling fans in bedrooms are a wonderful invention.” He sat up and lazily regarded Quinn. “You look… hot.” 

 

“An understatement,” Quinn responded dryly, feeling his cheeks redden from the heat in the room and in the younger man’s eyes, not to mention the deliberate double entendre. “Why didn’t you turn on the AC? It’s hotter than Dante’s ninth circle of Hell outside.”

 

“You always gripe about how much you like fresh air. Windows open year round and all that.” Ben’s grin quirked a corner of his mouth. “Do you even *have* AC?”

 

Quinn grimaced. “Yes, infant, it came with the house, all objections to the contrary. And it will be on momentarily, though it’ll probably take a couple of hours for it to have any effect.” He moved around the bed toward the bathroom. “I’m going to have a shower. The thermostat is in the hall. Make yourself useful.” Tempting as it might have been otherwise to join Ben on the bed, it was too darned hot. 

 

Must be getting old, he thought to himself. And wasn’t that a sorry state of affairs?

 

Ben languidly rose from the bed and strolled out into the hall in search of the elusive thermostat. Moments later, the welcome sound of the air conditioner filled the brownstone. The impact was almost immediate. He sighed in relief. He’d wanted to turn it on before, but Quinn could be quirky about modern inconveniences…

 

The sound of the shower beckoned, and he grinned. A bit of a wash-up did sound good about now… 

 

~the end~


End file.
